Rocket Queen
by Dragonseatingme
Summary: With a school trip gone awry, Maiko has to share a room with a ridiculously tall, stupid basketball player, for three whole days. Of course mortifying events follow, involving scheming friends, T-shirt swapping, lots of arguing and bare-chest colliding. Maybe a little bit of kissing too. "The question is: did you bang that hot bod?" "NO I DID NOT." "Shame." KiseOC. One-shot. T.


**Rocket Queen **

**Summary: **With a school trip gone awry, Maiko has to share a room with a ridiculously tall, stupid Blond Bimbo, for three whole days. Of course mortifying events follow, involving scheming friends, T-shirt swapping and bare-chest colliding. Maybe a little bit of kissing too. "The question is: did you bang that hot bod?" "NO I DID NOT." "Shame." KiseOC. One-shot. T.

**A/N: **Based on the fact that I think Kise's actually pretty smart and a _huge _flirt. Also, I am now a huge fan of OCs with their own lives.

**Note: **Kise might be _slightly _out of character. And I am a big fan of random spiels of absolute nonsense: it's important to me. AND TAYLOR SWIFT IS AMAZINGSAUCE. *hearts*

**Note [2]: **Also I include a lot of swearing; trust me a _lot_.

**Note [3]: **Based on this prompt from tumblr: We were put in the same room in the hotel for this school trip, I didn't know you showered this early and btw your singing is terrible I'm moving out au.

Enjoy!

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><p><em>("I was scared of dentists and the dark<em>

_I was scared of pretty girls and starting conversations_

_Oh, all my friends are turning green_

_You're the magician's assistant in their dream")_

_-Vance Joy, Riptide_

* * *

><p><em>("Listen, love like a war cry. Take people into your arms without thinking.<em>

_Smear your heart like graffiti across building. Sing along to Taylor Swift._

_Sing along to Queen. Don't ever apologize for liking something.")_

_-tumblr, inkskinned_

* * *

><p><strong>Hour One<strong>

"This has _got to_ be a mistake."

Kise scanned the room and frowned as well. "Yeah, I distinctly remember chocolates being involved in the picture too."

I swirled around to face him. "_That's _your biggest problem? What the hell?" I asked incredulously. The ridiculously tall basketball player turned to face me. He shot me a confused glance. "…eh yes?" He looked mildly freaked out by my, admittedly ugly, shocked expression.

I wildly gestured to the room. "We're _sharing _a bloody room!"

His eyes followed my hands. "But there are two beds."

"_That's not the point_." I squawked indignantly. "The point is that _we, _you and me, the two of us, _are sharing a fucking room._"

He looked at me uncertainly. Did he really not get the issue at hand here? I understand he may have got one too many a ball to his head while playing that absurd sport, but this was pushing it. Really, what the hell? I was a girl, he was a boy; can I make it any more obvious?

I sighed and kicked my bag forward. The room was quite nice, and I would have liked it if I was sharing it with my best friend, Yuka, instead of this dumb Bimbo next to me. But stupid Yuka had not come for the stupid school trip because she had stupidly fallen ill with stupid chicken pox, leaving me to stave off the stupidity of my classmates on my own. Even though she was not any better than them when it came to deep philosophical talks, her bright, airy and sociable personality balanced my rude, cynical, and holier-than-thou one. And we were best friends, and best friends don't abandon each other like that!

Stupid Yuka.

Anyway, her dropping out effectively reduced the number of girls to an odd number, and so, I had no one to share a room with. For a few precious moments I thought I would have a whole room to myself, and I dreamt about prancing about in my underwear singing Taylor Swift songs loudly, until it came crashing to the ground because of Blond Bimbo (Eh, Blond Bimbo has a nice ring to it; I shall call him that.) here.

I glared at him. Stupid boy.

He had somehow conned the teacher into getting his own room, (Personally, I thought it was because none of the boys wanted to share a room with him. The guy had like three suitcases for a three day trip. _Models_) and when faced with shelling out at least seven thousand more yen on another room, the teachers chose the dangerous way out.

_They told me to share the room with him._

Didn't they know about teenagers and hormones and sex? Obviously I wouldn't want to _touch _Kise by a barge-pole, but really, how irresponsible! If Emiko was in my place, god, she would have had a field day. She always went on and on about how sexy the basketball players looked.

But I definitely wasn't Emiko, thank you very much. I had no inclination to bang that hot bod (her words, not mine).

I dragged my feet towards the second bed near the balcony. It had a bright, flowery bed-spread, matching the bright flowery view outside. Blond Bimbo had placed his bags on the other bed, and was flipping through the channels of the TV.

I fell flat on the comfy, soft bed. I bemoaned the fact that the bed was nice; maybe I could have switched rooms on the basis of it being uncomfortable and potentially back-breaking.

"One of us has to leave the room," I told him. "I cannot accept these arrangements."

He glanced at me amusedly. "I'm not leaving the room." He shrugged. "You can if you want to."

"You should be more uncomfortable about sharing a room with a girl. This is irrational," I said hotly. Blond Bimbo did not even have the courtesy to look me in the eye. "I am not averse to spending a few days in the company of a cute girl."

My jaw fell open. The boy had the audacity to flirt during such a trying time. I squared my shoulders and said boldly, "But it doesn't seem like I'm going to have that joy am I?"

I heard him snort. "I apologize for not being a cute girl."

"You should be," I agreed. "And therefore you should also be nice enough to exchange rooms, and grant me that opportunity."

Blond Bimbo turned to look at me. I stared at him hotly, crossing my arms. Some unidentifiable expression crossed his face, and his eyes (urghh why couldn't I have eyes like that?) had an unnatural gleam in them.

I gulped. Had the predator noticed the prey?

"You know," he said casually. "Most girls would kill to be in your place." My eyes widened: such arrogance.

"Oh course not," I retorted. "Most girls might like to stay a few hours, but gosh to spend three days in the presence of a filthy, snoring boy." I shuddered. I was lying, Blond Bimbo probably wasn't filthy, but man, I needed to get my point across.

"Hey I _do not_ snore!" He protested indignantly. I nodded sagely. "'course not."

He rolled his eyes. "I'm definitely not moving now; I've got to prove a point." His eyes glinted, mischievously.

Oh god, had the ridiculously tall basketball player decided to revenge on all the times I've cheered against him in matches? I didn't know how he could've figured it out, but with that boy anything is possible.

I snuggled a little more into the bed. The little clock on the opposite wall told me the time was 3:50. I could stand him for half an hour right? I felt far too tired to get back and walk to the elevator, bear the giggling of my classmates in the adjacent rooms on the way, cooing about my red cheeks when I found out I was going to be sleeping in the same room as a boy, (in my defense, I grew up in a conservative household!) (not really; I'm just bad with boys) reach the fifth floor, walk to sensei's room and beg a little (a lot), trudge back to my room dejectedly, try again ten minutes later, succeed, come back and pick up my luggage, go to the concierge and face the horror of my dressing gown clad teacher, get my new room keys, and then go to my new room.

Too much energy required.

Plus, I needed to look my best (or at least average) when I gloated to the Blond Bimbo about my amazing persuasion skills.

Yes, thirty minutes was cool. Thirty minutes was fine.

(I wish I remembered that I was almost fucking _Snorlax _when it came to sleeping.)

* * *

><p><strong>Hour Three<strong>

I awoke to gorgeous, swoon-worthy eyes.

I sighed and stared deeply into them. They were a nice, golden brown, I felt as if I could melt into them. The eyes were accompanied by sinfully long eyelashes, a long perfect nose and-

-and, oh my god, were those lips, albeit _divine _lips, _smirking _at me?

I snapped out of my stupor. Blond Bimbo was standing above my bed. His face was far too close to mine for my liking, so I pushed it aside using my knuckles.

Ew ew ew, I thought stupid Blond Bimbo was hot. Please burn my brain to cleanse it.

I glanced at the opposite wall. The little clock told me it was 7:40. _Seven fucking forty! _

I shot up quickly. "Time, sleep and the universe have betrayed me!" I exclaimed. The Blond Bimbo sniggered. I glared at him. "Why didn't you wake me up?" He shrugged. "You seemed so comfortable, and," he leaned dangerously close. "You look far less scary asleep." He booped my nose.

I made an indignant noise in the back of my throat. That was such a lame excuse. He wanted to prolong my torture- that's the real reason.

"Well you still should have. Now sensei will never accept my proposal to shift rooms," I lamented. I glared at him. "This is your entire fault."

He laughed and sat down on his bed. "Sensei actually came by about an hour ago."

"And?" I pressed eagerly.

He shrugged. "It wasn't Takamura sensei, the other newer one. She told me not to wake you up, and dropped some package for you."

"Oh," I said, disappointed. "Nothing about me shifting half-way across the hotel?"

"No. In fact, she asked me if I was okay with the arrangements." He was staring too amusedly at me

"Please tell me you said no."

"Nope." He grinned cheekily. "I said I had no problem about it at all. And then she asked me about you."

I felt an ominous pit in my stomach. The bastard didn't-

"I told her you were totally cool with it."

_Fucking hell. _

I groaned and buried my head in the pillow. "What possibly possessed you to say that? I mean, c'mon didn't you want your own room?"

He shrugged. "I did. But I don't really mind sharing either."

I shot him a dirty look. "You epitomize all that is wrong with the world."

He grinned. "You don't know everything about me."

"And I don't want to, either," I shot back.

"So you're basically being prejudiced against me?"

He raised an eye-brow.

I stared aghast at him. Why was he making strong arguments? Wrong wrong, he's supposed to be a stupid Blond Bimbo.

I needed to change topics fast. But not without having the last word-

"That's awfully arrogant of you to think I actually have thought about you before right?"

_Lies, lies, _my mind whispered. I hurriedly sought to interrupt both my thoughts and his reply. "So what was the package?"

He closed his mouth and stared intently at me. "Everyone's thought of me," he said, reaching for a brown paper bag near his suitcases. I raised my eye-brow, _woah woah where the fuck did that come from? _

He handed the bag to me and I absently took it, distracted slightly by his words.

I opened it-

-and promptly shut it, red-faced.

I asked him weakly, "Hey, did sensei give you this?"

He looked at me curiously. "Yeah. The new one, Hirota sensei, I think?"

"Okay, er, you sure right?"

"Yes." He cocked his head. "Is there a problem?" His eyes fell on the bag. I tried to discreetly hide it behind my bag. "No, not a problem," I squawked. "There's just, ummm… never mind."

"…Okay."

I peeped into the bag again. This was Emiko's work, I was sure of it. And Hirota sensei _did _look young enough to derive fun from these juvenile tricks. I noticed a little piece of paper amidst, the, eh, _medical items. _

_Be safe ;)_

I crumpled the paper in my fist. She was going to pay alright.

The stupid bag had condoms in it.

* * *

><p><strong>Hour Four<strong>

Abandoning the Blond Bimbo to some basketball match on T.V, I scurried to Emiko's room.

I could barely look him in the eye as I left; the image of _Kimono _burning in my mind. Stupid stupid Emiko, what was she thinking? Blond Bimbo must have thought I was mildly insane as I edged out of the room, muttering about best-friends and evilness and girl-talk.

_Girl-talk_? Really?

I shook my head in embarrassment. I could never face him ever again. I would hide my head under a paper bag of shame or something.

Stupid Emiko.

There was giggling coming from room 201. I groaned, were all the girls gathered there?

I knocked loudly, praying to god Emiko would open the door. Some girl screamed out, "Coming!" I heard someone's footsteps thudding towards the door. I crossed my fingers in hope. The door opened.

Have I ever mentioned how much my luck sucks?

Sarah stood, grinning at me. Sarah, with her long, endless legs and shiny brown hair and stupid _Britishness. _

How could I forget she was sharing a room with Emiko? Urgh.

"Hey Maiko," she said, beaming, showing off her white, perfect teeth. I swear I could see evilness in those eyes.

"Hi Sarah," I said morosely. "Is Emiko there?"

"Of course she's inside. Come on in." She gestured for me to enter. I smiled tightly at her, and brushed past. Sarah Goodwill had moved into Kaijou with the rest of us, but the difference was that within a month everyone loved her. It wasn't as if I hated her beauty, or sexy legs, or hair or something- those were just side-along things I used to justify my dislike of her. Her appearance didn't affect me; it was just that, she was _too _nice. She tried too much to get people to like her- gosh, she even gave me this cute little keychain for my birthday! I resented how guilty she made me feel.

Yuka told me I was an idiot for hating her. I told her she was an idiot for trusting people too much.

Anyway, the room was filled with a gaggle of girls- about six of them. I frowned, why wasn't I invited to their little party? There were chips packets, and bottles of fruit-juice and Coke lying around. And and even _chocolate._

I squawked in outrage. How dare they have chocolate and not invite me?

And in the middle of this gaggle, like the queen herself, sat Emiko, digging into wasabi-flavoured chips, laughing. (EW!) I strode towards her.

"E-MI-KO!" I screamed. "What the fuck?!"

She looked up, and upon seeing my face, burst into laughter. The rest of the girls stared confused at the two of us, while I could hear Sarah giggling in the background.

"Explain yourself," I demanded. "Before I kill you, bitch."

She raised her hands in surrender. "Forgive me oh merciful-one."

My glare intensified, and she broke into louder laughter. She gasped for air. "My sides hurt," she said between breaths. "Oh god, your face." Raucous laughter. I assume my face was very scary and very murderous rage filled, but I don't think that's quite how my expressions turned out to be. I crossed my hands and impatiently tapped my foot.

"You have ten seconds left," I reminded her.

She turned slightly sober. Huh, maybe she took my words seriously for once.

"Okay, okay, but oh my god, that was so worth it."

"Shut up."

"Chill my friend, it was only a joke."

"_Only a joke?!" _I hollered. "ONLY A JOKE?!"

Emiko ignored me. "The question is," she shook her eye-brows suggestively. "Did you bang that hot bod?"

"NO I DID NOT."

Sarah cocked her head. "Your cheeks are red," she noticed. "Did Ryouta find out?" One more reason to add to the list as to why I hate her- she's almost best friends with Blond Bimbo.

"No Blond Bimbo did not notice. Thankfully," I muttered. Sarah snorted at my comment. "Blond Bimbo," I heard her mumble. "Oh my god." I preened myself, like a proud peacock. At least I had one thing above her- cooler nicknames.

Maiko: 1 Sarah: 867

"Anyway, w_hy would you do that_?" I asked her the most important questions.

Emiko shrugged. The girls beside her were beginning to catch up as to what was going on. Oh god, my social life was ruined forever. Stupid Blond Bimbo was popular.

"You should bang him, you know," she said casually. "You'd make cute babies."

I sputtered.

"Except," Sarah interjected, grinning. "We gave you protection so you wouldn't, you know, end up preggers." Her stupid British accent was supposed to make Japanese sound weird, not classy and exotic. Urgh. And since when did they start completing each other's sentences? Emiko was my best friend, not hers.

"I AM NOT GOING TO SLEEP WITH KISE RYOUTA. HE IS A RIDICULOUSLY TALL, STUPIDLY UGLY BASKETBALL PLAYER."

"Stupidly ugly makes no sense," Emiko stated.

"BLOND BIMBO."

"He's hot."

"STUPID AND UGLY."

"He's a model!" some girl spouted out incredulously. I gave her my best, who-are-you-and-why-are-you-interrupting-my-drama-go-find-your-own-loser look, which I think came out like I smelled something really bad.

Huh.

At least the girl fell silent.

I crossed my arms. "That was sucky of you. You know I don't like him. Not cool."

Emiko sighed. "Fine, sorry."

Eh, that would be the best I would get from her.

"Where'd you leave the condoms anyway?" Sarah asked curiously, as she passed me an unopened packet of cream and cheese chips, which incidentally are my favourite. I accepted it grumpily. I mumbled out as I ate a chip, "Umm, I left the bag on my bed I think."

Sarah hummed. There was silence for a few seconds before the no-name girl opened her mouth again.

"Kise-san's really curious right?"

I held a chip mid-way to my mouth.

"Yeah," Sarah agreed. "He's pretty nosy too. Found him digging into my purse once, told me he was curious because I had been acting weird around it all afternoon."

_No no no._

"I was on my periods," she giggled. "I don't think I've ever seen him so awkward ever."

Emiko noticed my frozen state.

"Maiko?" she asked cautiously.

_Shit shit shit._

"Are you okay?" she pried more insistently.

I turned my head towards her. "Emiko," I said weakly. "I left the bag on my bed."

"So?"

"In full view. _On. My. Bed." _I reiterated

Realisation struck her and all the other girls in the room.

Sarah burst into laughter. "You're screwed."

Have I mentioned how much I hate her?

* * *

><p><strong>Hour Five<strong>

I sneaked into the room as silently as I could.

Blond Bimbo wasn't anywhere in sight, so I let out a relieved sigh. Maybe he hadn't noticed the package and went to see his dumb friends or something. I prayed god would be kind to me. I edged in carefully, maybe he was hiding?

The paper bag was lying on the bed, just where it had been. GOD HAS BEEN MERCIFUL. Hmm, maybe Blond Bimbo wasn't _that_ bad.

The little clock informed me I had to go to dinner soon and my stomach echoed the fact. The hotel we were staying in was a little on the higher end, so we were told to dress nicely when we went to eat. I rummaged through my suitcase.

I hummed as I tried to decide between a cute, summer dress I bought in a sale a few weeks ago, and a nice, deep purple top Yuka had given me for my birthday. Decisions decisions.

"The dress would be the better choice," a deep voice said from behind me. I jumped up in surprise, and twirled around. Blond Bimbo stood in front of me, wearing a black shirt with a few buttons open that sinfully revealed a part of his well-toned chest. I tried to shake away those thoughts.

"You nearly gave me a heart attack," I accused. "Think of my poor heart."

He leaned forward, smirking. I got a whiff of his musky perfume, and did _not _like what it did to me. "Oh I'm sorry for your poor heart."

I sputtered. "Well-well, good."

I swirled back and purposely picked up the deep, purple shirt. He watched me amusedly as I fumbled with my bag, trying to get the zip to close- _oh for god's sake close you fucking thing._

When I finally zipped it up, I turned with as much dignity as I could muster, and walked towards the bathroom. It occurred to me that the Blond Bimbo must have been hiding in there, waiting to ambush me when I was distracted.

When I opened the bathroom door, Blond Bimbo called out, "Oh and your package fell down in your hurry to leave the room an hour ago."

I froze.

"I did you the courtesy of placing it back on your bed."

I turned around slowly. Blond Bimbo was smirking. I could feel the blood drain out of my body. This was it. This was the end. Goodbye world. Goodbye mother, I am sorry to have disappointed you. He removed something from his pocket. Something purple and square.

I was mortified. He was enjoying this.

He brought it forward, offering it to me. "Do you want it?"

"Wha-what?" I sputtered. My cheeks were flaming. OH GOD THIS WAS HORRIBLE.

I watched him open the packet, with a dropped jaw. What was he doing? Was he mad? He removed something white out of it.

He smiled innocently at me and held it up.

A white toffee.

This boy would be the end of me.

* * *

><p><strong>Hour Six<strong>

Dinner was _such _a nice experience.

Everyone was sniggering wherever I went, and Emiko joyfully was narrating the tale to everyone. Through this I learnt that Hirota sensei was more than happy to help them. I knew she was soulless and made up for the lack of male action in her life by trying to ruin the lives of other girls. I knew it.

Blond Bimbo made everything worse by approaching me while I was getting my food from the buffet.

"Everyone's gossiping about us," he said conversationally. "I know," I replied, poking a fork into the salad. "It's pissing off."

He hummed in agreement. Much to my chagrin he followed me to my table.

I slowly ate my food, contemplating the best way to murder Emiko and Sarah. Sarah mainly, I bet she was behind the fucking plan- that girl was evil. She was sitting with the Emiko, laughing about something. I stabbed my fork into my carrot and narrowed my eyes. They'd better not be discussing me.

I expected Emiko to sit with me and eat, and so it stung a little when she didn't. Maybe it was for the better, I hadn't completely forgiven her for the whole condoms-in-the-paper-bag-incident. I wasn't sure how long our uneasy truce would last.

And not for the first time that day, I missed Yuka. We had been excited for this school trip for months. We had everything planned out: clothes, snacks, things to buy, everything. It just didn't feel right without her. I would have even stayed back with her, if it weren't for the fact that a) she was quarantined and b) she threatened to stop sponsoring my chocolate addiction if I didn't go.

Stupid Yuka and her stupid cousin who gave her stupid chickenpox.

I stabbed my meat.

I heard Blond Bimbo snigger. "What?" I snapped out. He raised an eye-brow and elegantly ate a piece of tofu. "You look like a sad little kitten now you know?" he said. "And your stabbing is freaking everyone out. Calm self."

"I do not have murderous tendencies," I informed him. "But you are pretty close to making me change my ideals."

He outright laughed. "Yeah, yeah, we'll see who'll be laughing in an hour," I muttered.

I knew I was getting glances from my classmates, many of who were talking about how I seduced him with my vast vocabulary of botany. Hmm, I am proud of my vast knowledge of botany, except it is limited to poisonous plants (maybe I do have homicidal tendencies), but I wouldn't seduce Blond Bimbo with that; he would be too dumb to understand it.

You need girls with big busts for that guy's attention, and I wasn't all too well _endowed_ in that region. Stupid men and their stupid objectification.

Anyway, I wasn't a popular kid in school, but now here I was getting attention for being a ridiculously tall basketball player seducer, which was silly, because I don't even _like_ basketball. Blond Bimbo went on eating, oblivious to the hate/ respect I was receiving.

I stabbed my food again.

He rolled his eyes and stretched his hands to grab my fork. "No more stabbing," he chastised and placed my fork near his own. I glared at him. He was stealing my fun away.

"Fuck you," I muttered. "Why are you even eating with me?"

"To fuel rumors," he said, grinning. Sadist.

"Well it's working," I informed him. "Too well, might I add; there are people discussing baby names."

He grinned. "Perfect."

I sputtered.

* * *

><p><strong>Hour Seven<strong>

After the memorable experience that was dinner, I decided to lock myself inside my room in shame. My social reputation was in shambles- well okay, no one actually thought I slept with him, they considered me too juvenile for any adultish activities.

Well, excuse me, the true reason is that I am epic and there is not a man in this world who is worthy of me.

(Sadly, however hard it is for me to admit, my classmates were very very right).

Anyway, the loophole in my little hiding away plan was that the root cause of all my problems was currently showering in the bathroom.

I huddled in my blanket, staring at the bathroom door intently, mentally encouraging myself to face him. What did Blond Bimbo have that I didn't have?

Oh yes, _tallness. _His ridiculous height gave him the advantage of towering over me, and also his basketball playing gave him the strength to crush me. Gulp. Why couldn't my enemy be someone puny and weak? Why were they always super confident, horrible people like Blond Bimbo and Sarah Goodwill?

My mother raised me to stand up for my rights… provided I could win the battle.

The door opened. I clutched my blanket harder.

Blond Bimbo walked out wearing a white t shirt and a pair of basketball shorts, tousling his wet hair, looking like those people in deodorant advertisements. Hmm I wondered if he had done any of those. Well, he w_as _a model, so-

"Hey," I called out. "Have you ever acted in any deodorant advertisements?"

"Umm, no?" My enemy's face lit up in confusion. I frowned. "That walk looks awfully well practiced," I said matter-of-factly. "Do you walk with books on your head, like princesses?"

He knitted his eyebrows. "I am not a princess."

"Inside every person lies the urge to be a princess," I said sagely. "Don't try to deny it; it's science."

He laughed. "You're weird."

I hummed in agreement. Blond Bimbo had sat down on his bed, facing me. I was sitting cross-legged on my bed, pillow on my lap, with the blanket covering my head and body. You could only see my face.

"You know," he said. "Since we _are _going to share a room, we should probably get to know each other."

I nodded. It's always better to get to know your enemies better.

He started first. "Well I play basketball-"

I interrupted. "I know all that," I said waving my hand. I leaned forward, conspiringly "Tell me something I don't know." He laughed. I realised his eyebrows did a weird jiggly thing when he laughed. I wonder if mine did the same.

"Okay, well, umm. I like Karaoke."

I scrunched my nose. "I suck at singing."

"I'm spectacular."

"Has anyone told you you're very arrogant?"

"Nope."

I sighed. "Fine, my turn. Hmmm, I have an obsession with Taylor Swift."

"That American singer lady? The one with many boyfriends?"

I bristled. "There is a lot more to her than the number of boys she has dated." I hated it when people insulted Taylor Swift using that argument.

"Uhuh," he said amusedly. "Okay."

I glared a little at him. He smiled pacifically. "If I weren't so into basketball, I would be pilot."

I cocked my head. "I wanted to be an airhostess," I admitted. "I thought I could travel the world." Until of course, I realised that you had to be effortlessly charming and pretty to appeal to the general public travelling by air.

"What do you want to be now?"

"A doctor."

"Wow."

"Yeah, I mean, it'll be super hard and stuff, but obaa-san was a doctor, the first female of her family to be employed, and she's still at it, at the ripe old age of seventy three." I cracked a smile. "She screams at her patients over the phone, and waves her walking stick at all the interns there. She thinks the new doctors are rubbish-"

"-I'd like to be like her, you know? Saving lives, helping people- it's so rewarding."

His eyes had a shade of respect in them. "That's amazing," he said. I ducked my head, slightly in embarrassment, in his sort of revered tone.

"Okay," I hurriedly changed the topic. "Why'd you get the piercing?"

He scratched the back of his head. "Now _that's_ a long story…." He laughed sheepishly.

I love embarrassing stories.

* * *

><p><strong>Hour Ten<strong>

I do not know when we ended up in this position.

Both of us were on the floor, leaning on his bed, laughing about some story of mine. He grinned. "Why would you do that?" I bit my lip. "I don't know!" I exclaimed. "It seemed like a nice idea then."

He shook his head in mock understanding. I pouted. Stupid Blond Bimbo.

"So which middle school did you study in?" I asked.

"You don't know?"

I knitted my eyebrows. "Everyone doesn't know about your life you know?"

He shook his head. "No it's just- never mind, I went to Teiko."

I froze. "Teiko?" I muttered. "Oh my god."

He glanced at me in confusion. "What?"

I bit the skin of the inside of my thumb. "You played for them?" I asked quietly. Honestly, I had never cared much about basketball throughout my very short life, but one of my friends did, back in middle school. Long story short, I kind of lost contact with her when I shifted to Kaijou, but I really couldn't forget some of the stuff she told me about Teiko.

He looked sideways at me, curiously. "I did. I was a starter- part of the so-called 'Generation of Miracles'." He laughed.

"Oh."

"Oh?"

My knuckles turned white. "I didn't know that." I bit my lip. He turned around to face me completely. "Why are you asking anyway?"

The proximity of our faces was disconcerting. I could see all the specks in his golden brown eyes, his silver piercing glinting, the tiny scar right near his nose.

I blurted out, "Is it true you made players quit basketball with your basketball?" I winced. I didn't mean to ask him that. Kise froze. All the mirth melted out of his face. A few moments later: "That was a long time ago," he said quietly.

"But is it true?" I pressed. What was done was done. I might as well go on with it. Kise's golden brown eyes pierced mine. I stared back resolutely. I secretly hoped he would deny it; it would help my conscience rest in peace. Riko senpai wasn't my best friend or anything, but I still owed a lot more to her than I ever did to Kise. And she was definitely hurt because of Teiko, definitely lost too much to just a _sport. _

"It's true," he admitted. There was no guilt in his eyes.

"Do you regret it?" I asked. He shrugged. "I lost a friend because of it, but, no, not really." He ended on a whisper.

I could feel my eyes widen. There it was again, that cocky, self-assured attitude in him. This was a boy who got what he wanted, whenever he wanted. This was the Kise I heard rumours about, the model, the basketball player, the arrogant arrogant bastard.

How did I suddenly trust the enemy?

"How do you not regret it?" I asked quietly.

He stared resolutely at the floor. "When you play a sport," he said. "You have to be prepared to lose. They lost, and they couldn't handle it." He turned to face me. "Tell me why I should regret that."

"You have to regret it, because, sometime you've got to remember it's just a middle school lever, and not the goddamn Hunger Games," I said heatedly. "And no one deserves to be forced to hate the sport they love."

He scoffed. I crossed my arms tightly. I wondered if he would argue with me. He certainly looked like he would.

"I can't regret something if I didn't do anything wrong."

He was resolute. He was firm. Maybe to him, he actually hadn't done anything wrong. But- but I knew the other side of the story. Riko senpai had told me about them- the Generation of Miracles- the game they played with their opponents, their overwhelming strength, their all-encompassing power. I just never knew Kise was one of them- not that I knew _any _of their names.

His eyes had softened as he looked at me. He took one of my hands.

"It was a long time ago," he repeated. "And I swear; Kaijou has made me a better player. I know I was definitely terrible back then, but not anymore, I swear, not anymore."

I sighed, and let it go. Arguing with him about it wouldn't be cool.

"Okay," I said. "Okay." I tried to smile.

"I'm better now," he muttered again. I wondered if he was trying to convince himself.

* * *

><p><strong>Hour Seventeen <strong>

I awoke to bright, sunny morning, feeling sort of well rested. After the disastrous Teiko question last night, we both mutually decided to go to sleep. I glanced at his bed, he wasn't there.

The morning was free today for us to do whatever we liked, so I removed a pair of shorts, a comfortable T-shirt and shoes. I hummed and walked towards the bathroom.

It was locked.

Oh, he was inside. I wondered why he was always in the bathroom.

I lied down on my bed and waited. The little clock on the wall told me I had half an hour for breakfast. More than enough time.

I waited patiently. Thirty minutes became twenty-five, twenty, fifteen. FOR THE LOVE OF GOD.

I knocked loudly on the door. What the hell was the Blond Bimbo doing?

The showering noise reduced for a moment. I called out sarcastically, "Are you having an entire parlor session in there? I need to shower too."

I heard him turn off the taps. _Finally, good. _I impatiently tapped my foot, waiting for him to come out. The door opened and Blond Bimbo strode out wearing nothing but a towel.

O.M.G.

I squeaked and shut my eyes. "Wear clothes, wear clothes!" I exclaimed. "YOU ARE MAKING ME LOSE MY INNOCENCE."

I heard a deep rumble, and I realized I was standing close enough to him to feel the vibrations of his laughter. I closed my eyes tighter and waved my hands about. "Move faster faster faster, wear a bloody shirt." I felt his hand or something and began pushing him the direction of where I assumed his suitcase would be.

He loitered around, much to my chagrin. He said cheekily, "I have nothing to hide you know?" I squawked in outrage. "I don't give a shit about you, I am deeply selfish and only wish to not have my mind scarred by your- er- lack of proper clothing." I punched him again. This time I was pretty sure I felt his back. Deeply muscular, smooth back. I paused for a moment-

-and pushed immediately.

"Oh god woman, alright," I heard him mutter. "Which century are you from?" A few minutes later he told me it was safe to open my eyes. I blinked slightly, getting used to the sudden influx of light. I turned and scowled at him, placing my hands on hips. "Okay rule one of our room sharing agreements, no walking out of the bathroom without reaching a societally approved standard of clothing." I was well aware that the t-shirt he was wearing was quite-fell fitting and he was still just wearing a towel underneath it. I averted my eyes to his head.

"Got it?" I asked.

"Yes ma'am."

"Good," I said. There was a tense silence.

I prayed to god. Maybe today would be a good day.

* * *

><p><strong>Hour Nineteen<strong>

I was taking a walk around the resort. Emiko was hanging with Sarah (sigh) and Yuka was being stuffed with delicious food at her grandmother's house, so it was only me left to my lonely self. I kicked a pebble on the path. I needed to make new friends.

Anyway, the resort was quite lovely, a nice green garden with pretty flowers blooming and ornate benches here and there. I liked it enough to desperately want to take a nice selfie to make Yuka madly jealous.

My little phone is almost dead because of my abuse, but the camera worked just fine. I picked the prettiest bench near the prettiest bush and struck my best smile.

"You look like a dying cat."

Blond Bimbo, obviously.

"You look like a banana," I retorted, adding new filters to my picture. It was nice, I liked it. This would make Yuka envious enough.

Blond Bimbo sat next to me. "If you take a picture with me, you'll get more likes," he said cockily. I scrunched up my nose. "This was for Yuka."

He smiled at me knowingly. "Mmmhhhmm." He frowned. "Wait am I even friends with you?"

I felt mildly insulted. "Of course you are!"

He checked his phone. A few second later he looked up. "Why is your profile picture a panda?"

"Pandas are cute!"

"And you're cuter-" he deftly took my phone from my hands- "Change it now."

I admit, the 'you are cuter' part made me blush. But not enough to want to listen to him. "I like my panda," I said stubbornly. He rolled his eyes. "Take it from a model- you can do better than that."

"And what if I don't want to?" I raised my chin defiantly. "Gosh," he replied exasperatedly. "It's just a fucking picture." I considered it. Fine, what the hell.

He was scrolling through my pictures. He wouldn't find any dirt there, I've got all my selfies stored in a locked app. "You have lots of Taylor Swift pictures," he said absently. I grinned. "I heart Taylor Swift."

He shook his head in amusement. "Okay, let's change your DP."

He scooted closer to me. I scooted away.

"Personal bubble invasion much?" I asked him. He laughed. "Take a selfie with me."

I frowned. "No."

"Please?"

"No."

"I can grace you with a part of my hotness."

"No."

"C'mooooon."

I sighed.

"Fine."

"YES!"

There was lots of pushing and complaining during the whole photo taking thing- mostly from me. The end result was a perfect Blond Bimbo and a dying cat beside him.

"Perfect," he said happily, adding some final touches with some filter which I didn't even know existed, but _damn _was it good. He began typing in the description, much to my chagrin, with lots of emojis and smiley faces.

"There," he said, clicking post. I made the sound of a strangled cat. "I would never use so many smileys," I informed him.

He just smiled.

* * *

><p><strong>Hour Twenty<strong>

I had got hundred and three likes on my picture.

I had never even hit ten.

Was Blond Bimbo some hypnotizer?

Scary.

* * *

><p><strong>Hour Twenty Five<strong>

"Ohmygosh I so totally wish I didn't have chicken pox right now."

I ground my teeth in exasperation. After my wonderful profile picture change, Yuka had been constantly teasing the hell out of me. We had been on the phone for roughly half an hour, which I took to narrate my experience with Blond Bimbo so far.

She sighed dreamily. "Man I can't believe you've bagged Kise Ryouta."

I wrinkled my nose. "People aren't objects you know?" I could practically _see _her rolling her eyes. "Oh shut up. But really, the boy hasn't looked at a girl since the whole last year of middle school thing."

I frowned. "What's that?"

"You don't know?"

"Umm no."

"Do you live under a rock," she deadpanned. I winced. "Yo I didn't even know he was part of the Generation of Miracles."

"You definitely live under a rock." I laughed sheepishly. "Anyway enlighten me about the whole middle school thingy Yu."

Her voice hushed, conspiringly. "Okay so I've only heard rumours about it, but apparently Kise had been going out with this girl for a while and then bam she dumped him for some other guy who had beaten him in a game or something."

Ouch, gosh that must have hurt.

Yuka continued. "So the guy doesn't look twice at girls anymore, I don't know, I guess that hurt him pretty bad."

"I didn't know that," I said. "What happened after she dumped him?" I could practically s_ee _Yuka shrug. "I don't know, some people say he wanted to dump her anyway, so it didn't really matter. But I don't know; Kise's never had a girlfriend since."

"Wow, such drama," I commented idly, wondering how the Blond Bimbo and the girl looked together. "How come I'm never part of any drama?" I asked her. The news about Blond Bimbo's love life surprised me. Maybe it put a lot of things into perspective.

"That's because you have almost a non-existent social life," she replied.

"I have you."

"And gosh thank god for that."

"HEY!"

And so the topic was forgotten.

* * *

><p><strong>Hour Twenty Eight<strong>

Blond Bimbo was unnaturally silent when I entered the room. Maybe even gloomy.

Maybe even sad.

I knitted my eyebrows. "Hi?" I called out cautiously. The boy had taken over my bed, rolling up in my quilt. Stupid boy, he had his own space to sulk in. I treaded into the room silently. Blond Bimbo was clutching some paper in his hand.

He looked up. "Sato-chan," he said tiredly. I edged towards my bed, and prodded him in the stomach. "Why are you on my bed?" I asked. Poke poke.

He swatted my hand lightly. "I don't wanna move," he said petulantly, and burrowed deeper in the quilt. I wondered if the bed would smell like him later. That wouldn't be too good for my health.

That's when I caught sight of his face properly.

"Are you crying?" I asked incredulously, with my mouth agape. He shook his head rapidly. "Nah, just reminiscing."

He was using complicated words. Something was off.

I leaned to see what the paper could be. It was some magazine page, a little crumpled, with a glossy little picture Kise and a bunch of other tall dudes. And one little tiny one who looked positively evil. Red haired people had souls of satan or something right? Stupid stereotype and belief, but maaaan, did this guy look evil.

"So you in love with them or something?" I immediately winced. Wrong question to ask.

Blond Bimbo let out a bark of laughter. "Shit no, they were my teammates."

"Oh," I fidgeted uncomfortably. They were probably the rest of the Generation of Miracles. I didn't want to delve into the whole basketball thing again, so I tried to change topics. Blond Bimbo didn't let me.

"I found the page stuffed in one of my bag pockets. That was our first interview you know?" I could see it. All of them were clearly not very comfortable in the picture, except Kise and the red head dude. The giant purple headed guy, (gosh someone bigger than Blond Bimbo, what the hell?) stood with his eyes hooded, as if he didn't give a shit about the whole thing going on. A spectacled green one, stood stiffly, arms by his side, like a soldier. In the middle stood the red-head, his eyes glinting maniacally. Then came a boy with dark blue hair, who looked like all he wanted to do was to be somewhere else. And finally came Blond Bimbo smiling like the stupid model that he is.

I smiled half-heartedly. "That's cool, but can I get my bed back now?"

He grinned and snuggled further into it. I growled unhappily. I began poking him harder. He laughed, and attempted to swat away my hand again. Poke poke, swat, poke poke, swat.

"Get out of my bed already!" I finally said in frustration. I leaned lower, nearly bending my back till it was parallel to the ground. The ends of my hair tickled his face.

I scowled at him. "I'll drop my entire weight onto you, and you'll be crushed under the immense heaviness of my big thighs," I threatened him. He laughed and slowly sat up.

I smiled in satisfaction. I knew I could scare him. He looked intently at me for a moment. I don't know why I stared back at him, but the words in my throat kind of died out. Hopping out his place, he grabbed my hand. I jumped up a little, startled at his abrupt action. His golden eyes pierced mine. The whiff of his musky smell, tinged with the slight stench of his sweat, lingered in the air.

He was leaning towards me, bending to reach my height. We were only about a few inches apart. I could feel his breath on my face.

And he kissed me.

I froze, completely shocked. His lips were slightly chapped, and the kiss was soft and slow. One his hands still held on to mine, and the other was wrapped around my waist. For a moment, I melted into him, his hands, his soft soft lips, his scent, his goldeness- he was so so _good_- but then I snapped out of it.

I pushed him away, and rubbed my lips with my palm, roughly. "What the fuck?!"

He looked surprised. "I kissed you," he said, in confusion.

"I know that," I snapped. "That was totally uncalled for."

Kise looked lost. "But-"

Had the boy never really got rejected?

I twisted my body out of his reach. "You kissed me without my permission," I said angrily. Well, that wasn't really the issue; I just was really taken aback.

"I thought we were having a moment," he said finally. "We were weren't we?" I could see he was grasping at the straws. I couldn't look him in the eye. Maybe we were having a moment, but I didn't want to admit it. It terrified me, because for one small moment, I nearly kissed him back.

Call me old-fashioned, but I always believed in the concept of liking someone before, I don't know, kissing them. And I hadn't even thought of Kise in that light- like it never struck me to look at him like anyone else but someone I was forced to spend time with. Yeah, we got along pretty well, and he was nice and had put up with all my weirdness and stupid little mishaps, but I didn't think about my feelings about him. Yuka had talked about it the entire hour I chatted with her, but I brushed it off as mindless little teasing.

This kiss completely threw my thoughts in disarray.

I mean, suddenly I had to confront the flippity floppity feeling in my stomach as I stared at him, and the acute knowledge that he had just kissed me.

"Shit sorry, I didn't know, and I thought maybe-"

"Maybe what?" I decided to ignore my chaotic thoughts at the moment, and focus on the one thing I was a little good at. Arguing. My mind blanked out.

"Maybe you wanted to kiss me too."

And suddenly it struck me. "Why did you kiss me?" I asked him quietly. His eye-brows furrowed. "I like talking to you, you aren't like other girls."

_Aren't like other girls, aren't like other girls._

"What do you mean by that?"

He shrugged. "You're different, you laugh horribly and not daintily like a little princess, you stomp around the room and don't give a shit about what people think about you. And you're nice, and you make me laugh." He looked at me helplessly. "I wanted to kiss you."

I clenched my jaw. There it was.

"What the fuck is wrong with other girls?" I asked quietly.

He started. "What?"

"What the fuck is wrong with them?" I asked a little louder.

His golden-brown eyes bored a hole into my head. It made me uncomfortable, but I stared back. He finally averted his gaze.

There were few minutes of tense silence. "It's not that but-"

"Oh really?" I interrupted, not wanting to hear his reply. "Really really really."

The air could have been sliced by a knife. I clenched my wrist.

"What did I do wrong?" he finally asked stiffly.

"You did nothing wrong," I replied testily. I wanted to leave before I burst; it wouldn't be pretty, and as much as I really wanted to scream at him, part of me still hay-wire and messy, completely thrown off beat. I wouldn't make any sense.

His golden eyes flashed slightly. "Tell me," he said again, a little more insistently. I tried to calm down and organise my thoughts. What was happening here?

I exploded. "What is wrong?! _What is wrong? _You swagger up here and act all cool and suave and you have literally not respected any of my wishes at all. You act like you fucking own the place; well news flash: everyone doesn't love you, everyone doesn't think about you."

Why was I getting so angry? I lost control over my tongue.

He raised his hands. "Woah calm down, what the hell are you talking about?!"

"I am talking about _you you_." I laughed, incredulously. "I'm talking about you and your goddamn arrogance, you and your stupid condom joke, you and your constant self-centeredness, you and your fucking belief that I wanted to kiss you."

He was completely taken aback by my out-burst. Honestly, I was a little surprised too. I took in a deep breath.

"I'm sorry," I said weakly. "I think I should leave. I mean-"

I stopped speaking abruptly. I could hear the crickets chirping, the wind blowing; pretty much all those anime tense silence noises.

"Did you kiss me because I wasn't like that girl you dated back in middle school?" I finally asked quietly. He froze. "Did you kiss me because of that?" I repeated. He had gone completely still, his hands falling limply by his sides. I knew I had hit a sore spot, but I needed to know. I _had _to know.

"No, yes- I don't know," he finally whispered. I drooped, tiredly. I knew it.

I looked him in the eye. "I know she was terrible, and I know I'm not anything like her, but I don't want a boy to kiss me because I wasn't like someone he knew, but because of who I actually am, not compared to anyone."

I turned around. I missed Yuka.

* * *

><p><strong>Hour Twenty Nine<strong>

I asked Sarah and Emiko if I could bunk with them for the night. They were curious, but surprisingly didn't press. Maybe I wasn't as great in hiding my emotions as I thought I would be.

After dinner, I couldn't sleep at all. My lips kept burning at the thought of Kise, as well as the flippity floppity feeling. I felt guilty for yelling too much, he deserved it, but not the extent I had gone.

I had to finally face what I thought of the Blond Bimbo.

* * *

><p><strong>Hour Forty One<strong>

I realized trekking was not good for me.

Or more like physical exertion, generally, wasn't good for me. I was pretty much panting by the mid-way mark, and had fallen to almost the end of the line. Emiko and Sarah tried to give me company for a while, but they finally gave up and went faster. I trudged along the uneven earth with only the trees to listen to my moaning and complaints.

The basic task of the morning was to trek on your own to the top of a mountain, have lunch there and participate in some random activities, and then trek back down.

Basically, it was hell.

As I cursed school, Yuka, school, treks, nature and school, I didn't pay enough attention to my surroundings and I nearly tripped on a rock in the path. I stumbled forward and crashed into something warm. I looked up.

Kise steadied me with his hand.

I stepped back and glared at him.

"You did not see that." I told him childishly.

"Did not see you head-butt me?" he asked, stifling a smile.

"Yes." I nodded seriously. He tilted his head. "Okay."

I wondered if he was waiting for me because he was one of the most athletically gifted students I knew, and there was no way he could have fallen behind so far. He looked at me. "Can I walk with you?" he asked, carefully.

I nodded my head.

I began to walk, and he fell into step with me. There was silence between us, the awkward sort of silence, the silence where you went- should I speak first, or wait or…? But I wasn't fooling myself into believing I didn't know what was coming.

I braced myself.

He spoke up. "When I was in middle school and I played for Teiko, I was very proud about it." He snorted. I looked curiously at him, wondering where he was going with this.

"Anyway, we were horrible, maybe even cruel. If you think the basketball I play now is disgusting, if you had seen me then-" He paused. "We never lost, ever. And we reached a point when winning was guaranteed, no matter what-"

"- so we stopped taking stuff seriously. I mean, when you're always going to win, nothing really matters anymore right?" I hummed encouragingly, for him to go on. He stared down the path. "So I guess that got to me, maybe not only that. See, I never lost then, and I modeled and everything came really easily to me, so I guess like, it became all about me you know?" He gestured around. "And there were fangirls and really until you screamed at me yesterday about how I thought everyone loved me, I never actually thought of them as human beings- or I did, but like, I didn't think of them in terms actual people with actual lives out of which I'm just a tiny aspect and-"

"-and it hit me hard," he admitted. "It hit me hard when I realized that I am actually not as important as I thought I was. Everyone has lives completely independent of me, there is nothing special in anyone meant just for me, or basically meant for anyone but themselves."

He kicked a stone in the path. The sky was a gorgeous blue, and I stared up at it- cloudless and infinite.

"I met Akari at a basketball match." I realised he was talking about his ex-girlfriend. "And she asked me out, and everyone was getting a girlfriend, and she was pretty, so I said yes."

He sighed. "I mean she was nice and supportive for a while, but she kept making a big deal out of the fact that I was a model and shit like that. It was frustrating, she would get so possessive and needy and," he threw his hand up in the air. "and when she dumped me, the only reason I was upset was because of the guy she dumped me for, like that guy was a bastard. I wanted to dump her anyway, and she sort of ruined the whole dating thing for me. I thought every girl was Akari- and I know I'm wrong and stuff- but when I met you, maybe a little part of me said, she wouldn't treat you like Akari. She wouldn't dump you just because someone beat you; she'll probably kick you in the ass if you moped too much." He gave me a half-hearted grin.

"And the moment you just completely brushed off that magazine article, I realised how much I actually liked you." He earnestly looked me in the eye. "I'm sorry Sato-chi, I shouldn't have kissed you on a whim like that, or basically thought of you in terms of other girls. I should have asked for permission, I should have told sensei you were uncomfortable with the arrangements, and-"

"It's okay," I interrupted. "It's okay." He paused in surprise. Maybe he didn't expect me to forgive him so easily. I was touched, and damn his speech completely melted me. The flip flops returned with vengeance and I my arms were itching to hug him.

Also I wanted to really really kiss him again.

I had to really figure out whether these feelings were leaving the confines of platonic.

"I shouldn't have screamed at you at all," I confessed. "I don't really have a right to point out your flaws, since I pretty much possess the same self-centeredness. I was lost and a little angry, and I took it out miserably at you. I'm sorry."

I bit my lip, and he awkwardly ran his hands threw his golden hair. A gentle breeze blew, ruffling the ends of my shorts.

"Can I hug you?" He finally said softly. I nodded.

He wrapped his long hands around me. The material of his shirt was a little scratchy against my cheek, but I let it rest on it anyway. It was a warm hug, the kind that lasted forever. His scent encompassed me. The birds were chirping really loudly, and we were most probably the last people in the group, and I had never ever been hugged like that.

It was nice.

When he released me, his golden eyes peered hopefully into mine. "So now is everything cool?"

I nodded. "All is cool."

I can't believe I told Yuka I lacked drama in my life.

* * *

><p><strong>Hour Forty Seven<strong>

I came back from the trek exhausted.

I was filthy and sweaty and in desperate need of a shower, but all I could think about was sleep. Sleep sleep sleep.

The Blond Bimbo was still perky as ever. Stupid sports people. I contemplated calling Yuka for a while, but decided to ring her up later. Right now all I needed was my bed. I clambered towards it, every muscle in my body aching, every bone protesting against movement, and my mind screaming for rest. But I really couldn't soil the clean, bright, flowery sheets with my dirt and stink, so I knew I had no choice but to take a shower.

Grabbing clothes out of a pile randomly discarded on the floor, I hobbled into the bathroom. Blond Bimbo had gone to see some classmate of his-thank god, he teased me enough about my old-womeness during the trek. Also, it gave me some breathing time to turn over his words in my heads. He had told me he liked me, and I sortofkinda ignored it then, but I had to face it eventually.

The hot water felt deliciously good against my aching body, and I sighed in relief. I would be lying if I said I didn't absolutely melt at Blond Bimbo's little speech. And it gave me a lot to contemplate about. I think I spent like half-an-hour in there, enjoying the water. I belted out all my Taylor Swift songs, dancing along to it too, nearly slipping on a bar of soap. Finally when my skin was shriveled enough, I stepped out of the shower.

I stared at my clothes.

_Shit._

While I had my underwear and pyjamas right, the black t-shirt, however, was most definitely not mine. For one it was _huge _and second it smelt like man. More specifically like Blond Bimbo.

I stifled a scream.

I couldn't very well ask him to rummage through my bag for a new t-shirt could I? I had no choice.

I wondered how I could be so careless.

I was pretty sure my cheeks were stained the brightest red Blond Bimbo had ever seen, when I walked out of the bathroom. He ran his eyes up and down my body. I resisted the urge to shiver. His golden brown eyes were slightly misty when he looked up.

He raised an eye-brow. "You know you're a terrible singer?"

I sputtered. "No I am amazing, what are you saying?"

He shook his head. "Absolutely terrible, really. See I even packed all my clothes, because I'm moving out to sleep in the corridor. I cannot risk losing my ear-drums."

I glared at him. "Take that back."

"No," he replied cheekily. "Besides I'm almost done packing, I'm just missing one t-shirt…." He made a great show of looking around the room. "I wonder where it is." I felt my blush get even brighter. Urghhh how mortifying! I crossed my arms, and walked to my suit-case. "Shut up," I muttered and his smirk grew wider. I pulled out another t-shirt and stalked towards the bathroom.

"You can wear it you know," he called out. "I don't need it now, and you don't have to remove new clothes."

I considered his proposal. The T-shirt was soft and warm, and it smelled nice. Plus, no one would see me right?

I put down my shirt. "I accept your offer," I declared and padded to my bed. "And now I shall fall asleep. Please wake me up at seven."

The Blond Bimbo agreed and I snuggled into my comforter. I expected to fall asleep almost immediately but I couldn't. I was hyper-aware of Blond Bimbo's presence in the room; I could almost feel his every movement. His humming as he flicked through channels on the TV, the sound of his steps as he walked around the room, and his scent that lingered in the T-shirt. Was it because our relationship had reached another level of understanding? Was it because I knew he liked me?

I wondered if it was because he was a boy.

It was probably because he was a boy.

Sleep came when Blond Bimbo decided to go to play some basketball.

* * *

><p><strong>Hour Fifty One<strong>

After dinner, everyone was expected to go for a campfire.

I, however, had no inclination to go, so I bunked. It was 10:25 in the night and since we were in the country-side, the stars were bright and clear. I decided to go the hotel balcony instead. When I slid open the double doors, I didn't expect anyone else to be there, but Sarah Goodwill stood at the end of the balcony, holding what looked like a can of coke.

I contemplated going back, but I chose not to.

The sound of the doors alerted Sarah to my presence and when she saw me, she didn't give me her customary smile, but impassively turned back to the grounds. Curiosity killed the cat, buuuuut, satisfaction brought it back. I walked towards her. The balcony was quite huge, with a couple of sofas, easy chairs, and bean bags placed in different places. From where Sarah was standing, I could see the campfire in the distance. They were singing or something, and their voices travelled to us all the way here. I stood next to her.

"Hi," she said quietly. "Why aren't you at campfire?"

I shrugged. "Didn't feel like it."

She nodded and leaned forward, clutching the railing. "Why didn't you go?" I asked her, mimicking her actions. I tried to spot the Blond Bimbo. Ah, there he was, sitting near Emiko. I heard Sarah sigh.

She turned to face me abruptly. "You hate me," she stated bluntly. I was taken-aback. I looked at her and said carefully, "I don't _hate _you."

Sarah rolled her eyes. "But you don't like me."

I tilted my head. "No, I don't like you."

"Why not?"

I raised an eye-brow, not impressed. "Everyone doesn't have to like you, you know." She shook her head, "No it's not that, but like, why? I mean what have I done for you not to like me? You're realistic; you wouldn't hate me for no reason."

I stretched my hands. "Everyone loves you, it's weird."

"So you hate me because everyone else likes me?" she asked incredulously. I winced, hearing her say it out. It sounded so superficial. "I told you I don't hate you," I muttered.

She looked up at the sky disbelievingly. "Seriously?"

"That's not the only reason," I said. "Obviously there's more."

"Do enlighten me," she said pompously.

"Fine," I shrugged. "Before you landed here, it had always been me, Yuka and Emiko. We were friends since fifth grade, it wall always just _us._" I paused. "Until you arrived that is," I muttered. Sarah stared at me. I continued. "And then suddenly Emiko was always like Sarah this, Sarah that, and the next thing I knew, she wasn't eating lunch with us, she wouldn't walk back home with us."

I let out a mirthless laugh.

"I don't like you because you stole my best friend."

"Oh," Sarah said. I nodded. "Yeah, but while I do hold it against you, I guess I should have expected it. Yuka and I have been friends for ages, and Emiko only joined us later. I mean, she must have felt pretty much like a third wheel."

"Yeah," Sarah said quietly. "That's what she told me." There was a slight breeze, and I wrapped my hands around my body to keep warm.

"I think you try too hard," she finally said, breaking the silence. "And you're too morally righteous; you know, you have the whole holier-than-thou attitude, and it fucking pissing off." I had never heard Sarah swear in my life, I stared at her agape. While I had always had an issue with her, I never knew she returned the sentiment.

Her brown hair whipped around her face. "Maybe you should come down to earth once in a while."

I considered her words carefully. We were both impassively pointed out why we didn't like each other, like we frankly didn't give a shit about it.

I suddenly grinned.

"I have never had a proper enemy in my life," I told her, and Sarah snorted. "Darling, I'm not your enemy; it's such a crass word. We're more like two people who have practically nothing in common."

I cocked my head. "So we're like frenimies?"

She elegantly wrinkled her nose. "I can't believe you just said that."

"Stuck-up bitch."

"Senile weirdo."

I liked this side of Sarah Goodwill.

* * *

><p><strong>Hour Fifty Two<strong>

Sarah's parting words were: "If you break his heart, I will kill you."

I assured her that I neither had any tools to break any human organ, nor did I have any power to make him do it on his own. She muttered something else, but I didn't pay attention.

I had to call Yuka, I needed some stupid relationship advice immediately.

* * *

><p><strong>Hour Sixty Four<strong>

Blond Bimbo shook me awake.

I don't remember when exactly I fell asleep, but I would have at least spoken with Yuka for two hours. There was lots of crying about growing up and bad jokes involved. It was glorious.

Anyway, we came to this conclusion: Blond Bimbo was an attractive human species, and when attractive males showed attention you basked in it. Also, he was genuinely nice, maybe a little flighty, but that's where I came in to keep him grounded. He was also a little too childish and a little bugging, but as Yuka put it, 'there aren't many people who can stand you, so you better stick to everyone who does like fucking super glue."

Blond Bimbo had fallen asleep in his basketball clothes; I felt guilty of that, after all, I did hog the bathroom.

"Hey you," he said softly, towering above my bed like the ridiculously tall person he is. He had neatly showered; the same hotel soap and fancy perfume smell wafted towards me. "Hello," I replied groggily, glancing at the little clock on the wall. 8:00 a.m. My head fell back. "Weren't we supposed to go trekking again today?" I asked him. He shrugged and stepped back. "You slept at 3:00 a.m. last night. I thought you might murder me if woke you up."

I considered his words. Yeah, I probably would have killed him.

"You could have gone," I pointed out, forcing myself to get out of the warmness of my bed. I padded to my bag. He was pointedly looking away from me when he answered. "I didn't feel like going I guess."

Blond Bimbo's cheeks were red, I noticed. I wondered why he wasn't looking in my direction.

I looked down. Oh.

I was wearing only in a T-shirt. I clamped down the shriek that was about to emerge from my mouth. _I had forgotten to wear my pants. _

I usually went to sleep in oversized T-shirts, but that was at home, not while _sharing a room with a person of the opposite gender._

_Fuck fuck fuck._

"Don't look!" I squeaked and dived for my suitcase. I crashed into the floor, banging my knee against the bedpost. Blond Bimbo immediately turned around.

"Are you-"

"DON'T LOOK!" I shrieked, and he clamped his eyes shut and spun around at once. I rummaged through my bag, searching desperately for some pants. WHY COULDN'T I FIND ANY PANTS?

I pulled out a pair of shorts. Thank god.

A few seconds, fully clothed, I told him it was safe to look. Blond Bimbo was stifling his smile when he turned. I glared at him.

He burst out laughing.

"It's not funny," I whined. "Stop laughing." This only worsened it. He gasped out, "I didn't know you were into heart undies."

I flushed red. I bought them for fun in a store once, and somehow they became my favourite pair of comfort underwear. "Shut up," I mumbled, shuffling forward to smack him on the arm. "Stoooooop laaughingggg."

It was contagious. I felt myself suppressing my giggles. I could see tears in his eyes- stupid golden brown eyes- and his perfect rows of shining teeth taunted my own, yellow ones. He continued to laugh.

"Oh my god, aahahahaha." I bit my lip. Do not show amusement, I repeat, do not show amusement.

We ended up laughing for ten minutes straight.

We finally stopped when I felt my stomach begin to cramp, and he was wheezing, taking in deeps gasps of air. I closed my eyes, and slapped myself lightly on the face. "Stop laughing," I commanded to myself. "It is not good for your poor poor lungs."

Blond Bimbo was smiling at me. Suddenly I realized that he was _quite _good-looking. A warm feeling burst in the pit of my stomach. It struck me- Blond Bimbo was nice wasn't he? The warm feeling grew. I realised that maybe- oh god all the relationship advice had worked its charm- I had a crush on him.

I wanted to bury my head in my hands. Why why why, this was mortifying.

But looking him in the eye, I decided it was time to take charge.

He took one step away from me (curse his long long legs!) and turned around, probably to go back to whatever he was doing. I frowned, what was he doing? I wasn't done talking to him yet. I took a step forward too, but miscalculated the fact that since he was taller, the distance he covered with one step was far too much for my little feet. I lost a little balance and leaned forward. An empty bottle, which I had tossed to the ground last night, had rolled into my path, and combined with my loss of center of gravity, I tripped right into him.

I bumped my head on his back. I used my left hand to lightly rub it. I groaned slightly. "Owww."

Blond Bimbo turned around to face me. I glared at him. "What is with your back? Is it made of stone? Gosh, are you trying to make me lose brain cells?" He stared amusedly at me. "You didn't have any in the first place," he drawled. I narrowed my eyes. I stood on my tip-toes to look him in the eye. "Now look here young man-"

Suddenly I was hyper aware of the distinct lack of space between our bodies. Somehow, both of us had gravitated closer together, and as I stood on my toes, my chest was lightly brushing his. I was also suddenly aware of the fact that I still hadn't brushed my teeth or combed my hair. I wondered if I looked like a raccoon, Yuka always told me I looked like a Raccoon. Stupid Yuka.

His golden-brown eyes were twinkling. I paused speaking.

"Hey there," he breathed. I bit my lip. Damn him and his sexy voice. "Are you going to scream at me again?" I knew he was joking, but I felt my check flush a little. "Oh shut up," I murmured. I looked him in the eyes. They were flecked with darker brown, I noticed absently. And his nose had a tiny little scar running down the side.

I don't know what I was thinking when I lifted my hand, and ran my fingers down the white line. I heard his breath hitch and he shut his eyes. My fingers danced down his cheekbones, and finally rested near his jaw. I could feel my other hand tremble ever so slightly.

"You're beautiful," I whispered softly. Maybe not the most ideal of words, but somehow, those were the only ones I could think of. I finally let the warm feeling in my stomach spread over me: "Can I kiss you?" I asked him.

His eyes opened, and he nodded slightly. I looped my hands around his neck and kissed him, morning breath, raccoon hair and all.

It was the best kiss of my life.

* * *

><p><strong>Hour Sixty Five<strong>

Blond Bimbo and I walked to breakfast together. I was animatedly discussing the implications of an alien invasion with him, when it struck me.

I stopped. He slowed down too, and looked at me curiously. "What's up?"

My eyes widened. "You have a lisp!" I exclaimed. His eyebrows creased in confusion. "….yes?" I grinned broadly, and clapped my hands. "It's very cute," I informed him. "But it makes you sound like a two-year old."

He frowned. "I do not sound-"

I interrupted. "Oh you cute lil baby, cute cute baby." I tip-toed and pinched his cheek. "Awww so chubby and adorable." He smacked my arm away. "I am not a baby," he whined, but I skipped away in front of him. "Baby babbbyyyyy," I cooed. "Little baby with a cute little lisp."

"Sato-chi!" He cried out. I turned around and stuck out my tongue. "C'mon little one, let us go fill your tummy with tasty tasty food."

I skipped all the way to the restaurant and he trailed after me, muttering curses at my continuous jabs at his lisp.

I could get used to this.

* * *

><p><strong>Hour Sixty Eight<strong>

"I'm hungry," I complained. After breakfast the two of us went for a walk for a while, and then he suggested I watch him play basketball.

That got pretty boring after a while.

It was around one in the afternoon, and my stomach was grumbling for food. "Quit throwing a ball around and let's go eat something," I called out. Blond Bimbo was sweating, making his sleeveless T-shirt stick quite nicely to him. I openly appreciated his muscles. Maybe he did have it in him to be a model.

Except he was stupid.

He paused in his ball throwing. He turned to me. He held out his fingers. Five minutes. Pffft. I rolled my eyes; he had been saying that for the last half an hour.

He was sexy while playing basketball. I admit to oogling.

I stretched my legs, and let the sun shine brightly on them. Even though they wouldn't tan and they were chicken legs, I still wriggled my toes contentedly. Blond Bimbo dropped beside me. "Hmm you actually came this time," I said. "Not bad." I patted his head.

He scrunched up his face, and swatted my hand away. "Hush," he said. "I am not a dog." I opened my mouth to retort. He hurriedly interrupted me. "Do _not _talk to me like I'm a dog now." I smiled innocently. He was far too suspicious.

I looked at my toes again. He followed my sight. "What colour should I pain my toes?" I wondered aloud. "Pink," he said immediately. "It'll suit you."

I glanced at him incredulously. "Hey, I'm a model," he said defensively. "It's sort of my job." I giggled.

I wriggled my toes. Blond Bimbo smelt of sweat. And his arm, which was brushing against me, was wet. He took my hand and played with my fingers. It felt nice.

"So how does this work?" he asked. I tilted my head. "How does what work?"

"This." He gestured to the two of us. I considered his words thoughtfully.

"You could be my wallet," I offered. "And my sexual frustration fulfiller."

"You make me sound like a prostitute."

I smiled apologetically. "You could be my friend?" I teased.

He brushed his lips against my fingers, sending shivers down my spine. "I don't want to be your friend," he said.

"Best friends?"

"No."

"Mega best friends?"

He turned to hover over me, balancing on his right hand. "How about your boyfriend?"

I made a big show of thinking about it, when in actuality I was thinking about how sinfully perfect his lips were. His golden brown eyes twinkled.

Stupid Blond Bimbo.

"Okay," I said finally. "Okay."

A bright smile lit up his face. He shuffled a little until his hands were placed at the sides of my face, effectively trapping me underneath his body. His face hovered next to mine. "Can I call you Maiko?" he asked. I looped my hands around his neck- I liked doing that. "Sure, can I still call you Blonde Bimbo?" He let out a bark of laughter. "I don't think I can stop you even if I wanted to."

I grinned.

His eyes darkened by a smudge. "Can I kiss you now?"

I smiled. "Okay."

Blond Bimbo was a good kisser.

* * *

><p><strong>Hour Sixty Nine<strong>

"I kissed him."

"Oh my god oh my god oh my god. Look at you all grown up."

"I'm dating him Yu, I can't believe it. I MET HIM LIKE TWO DAYS AGO. This is not normal."

"Aww you guys will make such cute babies. I DEMAND GODMOTHER RIGHTS MAI."

"Shut up."

"Gosh, I fall ill for THREE DAYS and you've kissed a guy, shown your favourite underwear to him, slept in the same room as him, annnddd shared clothes with him. Wow Mai, you've hit so many bases."

"He's nice."

"I'm sure he is."

* * *

><p><strong>Hour Seventy Six <strong>

Dinner had been a tense affair with almost _everyone _staring at us. Stupid Blond Bimbo held my hand in the plain sight, causing an outbreak of whispers. I heard a couple of my classmates discussing a theory about how I seduced him using the condoms Emiko had given me.

I nearly burst out laughing.

Anyway sensei had screamed at us a little for missing the trek, but it was only Hirota sensei, and she just told us to not do it again and shooed us off. She caught my hand while we were leaving and whispered in my ear. "Remember to use the protection." She winked.

Most. Mortifying. Moment. Of. My. Life.

Back in the room I checked twice I had my own pyjamas before entering the bathroom. Surprisingly, sharing the room with Blond Bimbo hadn't been too hard. Both of us were generally neat people, so it wasn't really clash of the Titans or stuff like that.

He still teased me about my singing though.

I sat next to him as we watched some random drama on T.V. Somehow the whole touchy-feely aspect of the relationship hadn't bothered me as much as I expected it to.

"I've known you for only Seventy Six hours," I informed him. "Statistics say that it not quite enough time to base a relationship on."

He raised an eye-brow. "In these seventy six hours I have seen more of you than I would ever have seen in twenty three years." I flushed red, remembering the whole undies/bare chest incident. Yeah that was definitely true.

"But maybe we're going too fast?"

He cocked his head. "Maybe, you haven't even seen me playing proper basketball yet."

I protested. "Of course I have. I've come to plenty of your games."

"You have?" he asked. "Really? I've never seen you."

"That's because I always thought you were a ridiculously tall, stupid blond Bimbo," I told him honestly. "So I never said hi."

He laughed. "You still think I'm a ridiculously tall, stupid blond Bimbo," he said and I beamed.

But then I sobered slightly. "We might be going too fast, you _are _my first boyfriend, and I'd like it to be done normally." I poked him in the chest.

Blond Bimbo smiled. "Okay, how about this?" he said, turning around to face me. "Day after tomorrow, why don't I take you out for lunch? We can have a normal first date."

I grinned.

"Okay," I said. "So no kissing until day after tomorrow." I turned back to face the T.V. Blond Bimbo pouted petulantly. "That wasn't part of the deal!"

I pinched him on the cheek. "You only kiss a girl after taking her out to lunch," I informed him.

* * *

><p><strong>Hour Eighty Six<strong>

I packed my suitcase.

After deciding to take things slow, I painstakingly made my way back to my own bed and fell asleep there. We would do this like a normal couple, never mind the fact that the whole basis of our relationship wasn't exactly movie-inspiring.

We had just finished our last activity of the trip, and were getting ready to leave. Blond Bimbo was painstakingly folding each of his shirts carefully and placed them into colour coded suitcases. I bunched my clothes randomly and stuffed them inside mine.

I held up his T-shirt.

"Yo, this is yours," I called out. He looked by briefly. "You can keep it," he said distractedly. I looked at the shirt. It was far too big for me and his smell was already fading from it. But it still felt like him.

I shuffled from foot to foot, in indecision.

Finally I bundled it into a small ball and threw it at him. It hit him on the side of his head.

"Keep it," I said. "And get me a new T-shirt later, mmhmm?"

He rolled his eyes. "Gold-digger," he muttered.

I smiled angelically.

* * *

><p><strong>Hour Ninety Three <strong>

The gigantic clock in the station told me it was two in the afternoon.

Blond Bimbo stood next to me, his three suitcases and all, and helped me scan the place for my parents. I spotted them near the information desk. Mom was wearing her purple, oversized hat from Spain and Dad was wearing a bright Hawaiian shirt. I smiled softly; I had missed my silly, fun-loving parents.

I turned to Blond Bimbo. "I would introduce you to my parents, but our relationship hasn't reached that stage yet," I informed him. "And my mother would have a heart-attack if I told her I had finally snagged a boyfriend." I leaned forward. "I think she is under the impression that I will never get a boyfriend, and meeting you in the station would cause too big of a scene."

He smiled amusedly.

"Also," I continued. "My dad has always wanted to do the over-protective father act, and I cannot disappoint him."

Kise sighed dramatically. "Very well then Maiko, I shall bid farewell now. I can see I am not wanted."

I grinned and tip-toed to kiss him on the cheek. "Pick me up at twelve, idiot, and take me somewhere nice."

"I shall take you on a date you will never forget."

"I'm hoping for that."

I grinned. Picking up my suitcase, I wandered to my parents, who beamed and waved enthusiastically when they saw me.

"How was the trip?" Okaa-san asked, after hugging me.

I thought about it. I met a boy, shared a room with him, made a frenemy, destroyed and resurrected my social reputation to a totally different level in three days, snagged a boyfriend, nearly killed some people, and discovered that maybe sometimes Blond Bimbos can be pretty cool.

"Pretty stupid," I replied, grinning.

* * *

><p><em>~FIN~<em>

* * *

><p><strong><span>AN: **I HAD SO MUCH FUN WRITING THIS. Even if it's a little disjointed and weird, I understand Maiko like I understand myself, and writing a flirty Kise was super cool.

This is the longest thing I've ever written *-* I am proud of myself.

I hope all of you liked it! :D

Reviews make me very very happy.

Much love,

Dragonseatingme

**Disclaimer****: **I don't own anything. Pls, really, why would I be writing fanfiction then?


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